Queer as Dante's
by werewolf.love
Summary: Brian's taking Justin on vacation!
1. Chapter 1

Note from author: This is my first endeavor into the land of the crossover fic, and all in dedication to Mssr. Day-to-the-O! This one is starting out with my boys from Queer as Folk and Dante's Cove, but soon will be infiltrated with other characters from my obsessions such as HP, BtVS, etc. I hope it will be enjoyed by all!

Chapter One

Brian Kinney pulled his sliding front door open with a heavy bang and entered the loft. He set his briefcase down on the floor, smirking. The room was smoky and candlelit, and lying on the floor in front of a posh white couch was Justin. The twenty-one year old blonde was adorned in one of Brian's own shirts; the sheer black button-up Justin fancied wearing when his lover was out. It looked hot on him, too, Brian thought, especially paired with Justin's signature whitey-tighties, which was all he wore at the moment on his bottom half. With a sigh, Brian sauntered over to the couch beside which Justin was lying, and sat down.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," said Justin. When he spoke smoke escaped from his mouth. Brian laughed shortly and took the joint, letting his fingers linger against Justin's for a few seconds. It was simple affection like this that Justin lived for, and he stretched his arms above his head. The shirt lifted above his bellybutton and Brian rolled his eyes.

"What did you do all day? Other than play dress up in _my_ very expensive Prada collection and smoke all of _my_ pot?" Though the words were harsh, Brian's tone was anything but. Ever since Justin had returned from New York to live with him, their relationship had been excellent. No ridiculous talk of marriage from either party, no promiscuity that wasn't mutually shared and enjoyed. Their late nights at Babylon had dwindled slightly only to be replaced by the occasional evening at home. Even Brian sometimes liked to fuck in his own bed.

"Had lunch with Daphne at the diner," said Justin, finally sitting up so his back leaned against Brian's knees. "Downloaded some music on your computer illegally."

"_Our_ computer," Brian corrected him casually while he pulled Justin's blonde hair softly through his fingers with one hand. His other hand lifted the half-smoked joint to his lips. He took a long hit, so he could catch up. "Sounds like a productive day," he exhaled after a comfortable silence.

"Oh, it wasn't," Justin replied, rolling his head back into Brian's touch. "Not yet. But I thought tonight we could go to Michael and Ben's for dinner."

"Are the new sketches of Rage ready for Mikey's appraisal?" asked Brian, motioning to the slew of paper and pencils on the coffee table.

"I just wanted to ask him a question about J.T.'s hair. I think it's time for a change," said Justin, his face an expression of quizzicality. "What do you think?"

Brian slid off the couch to the floor beside Justin so they were face to face and handed the joint back. "I think J.T.'s hair is fucking hot, already." He tugged at Justin's bangs, which had grown out quite a bit over his eyes. "I don't care what you do with your hair. Shave it off, grow it out."

Justin grinned and took a hit from the joint. "Okay."

"Okay, _what_?" Brian asked.

"Okay, what are you up to?" Brian feigned ignorance. "Come on, Brian. You come in here smiling after working all day, which you never do. You're not pissed that I smoked your last joint, which you always are. You don't immediately turn down the suggestion to go to Ben and Michael's. What's up?"

"That was my last joint?" Brian questioned, bitterly.

"Brian."

"Well, I can't fool you anymore, Taylor. You caught me." Brian raised his eyebrows and put his arm around Justin, pulling their foreheads together. "I just landed a huge account today. I'm taking you away for the weekend to celebrate."

Justin's eyes widened and he pulled away from Brian with hesitance. "Are you fucking with me?" Brian shrugged his shoulders.

"If you don't want to go…"

"I want to go!" said Justin, his extreme enthusiasm poorly contained. "Where did you want to go?"

"Well," began Brian, "there's this one place I'd like to take you. It's supposed to be a hugely homosexual rendezvous locale on the west coast."

"I loved the west coast!" exclaimed Justin, and then at Brian's raised eyebrows said, "I mean, I hated it there in L.A." Brian rolled his eyes and Justin scooted closer to him. "I hated that you weren't there with me."

"Now we can be there together. Except," Brian paused for dramatic effect, "we won't be going to L.A. for our mini break." He looked amusedly at Justin's intense expression. "Justin, I'm taking you to Dante's Cove."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A few seconds later, Pittsburgh 

"Oh my god, Dante's? Brian, that place is so renowned. How can you afford it?" Justin asked, so excited at the news he couldn't help but grin his wide, full-toothed smile.

"I know that's not a serious question so I'm ignoring it completely," answered Brian nonchalantly. "Now pack your things. We're leaving tonight."

Same time, Scotland 

Buffy Summers was sitting in her room contemplating her life and missing Sunnydale, her mom, and sex. Then she remembered she didn't need to miss sex at all and called Spike on the intercom to the basement, which is where he dwelled in the largely majestic Scottish castle/Slayers Headquarters. After a shrill buzzing noise at the push of the intercom button, Buffy spoke.

"Spike? Are you there?" There was only a very short pause before he answered back.

"Slayer. Missing me already?" His voice was deep and fancifully English over the mechanical buzz of the machine.

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her feet awkwardly. She didn't like the idea of admitting her dependence to anyone, but it was true and they both knew it. Buffy needed Spike. At least the feeling was mutual.

"What are you doing?" she asked him. He responded quickly.

"On my way up to see you, Love."

"Oh," sighed Buffy. "Okay. I'll see you in a second."

"Yeah, in the ten minutes it takes to walk all the way up to your tower in the sky. I'll see you."

It did not take Spike ten minutes to walk all the way to Buffy's room, but when she opened the door to his sharp knocking, he looked out of breath.

"Run all the way here?" she asked him, which he answered with a cool shrug of his shoulders as he sauntered past her.

"We need to talk, Buffy," Spike began, sitting on the foot of her bed and motioning for her to join him. With hesitance, Buffy moved to sit beside him. She sat gazing at him. His blonde hair was slicked back today, Buffy guessed, because they had spent yesterday watching Harry Potter movies with Xander and Willow. Spike had seemed oddly fascinated with the characters of Draco Malfoy.

"That boy bloody stole my act!" he had hollered.

Buffy had noticed the resemblance of the two peroxide badasses and smiled. It was so good having Spike alive and back at her side.

"What is it you need to talk to me about?" Buffy asked. Spike nodded and took her hand.

"We know Sunnydale had one, Cleveland's got one that Faith is dealing with," said Spike carefully. "But I heard from Xander from Giles that there's a new hellmouth causing troubles, Love."

Buffy was taken aback. "Another hellmouth?" She crinkled her nose in disgust. "Why am I surprised by this?" Spike smiled at her.

"It needs to be taken care of immediately," he said. "Lots of wonky stuff going on."

Buffy stood up, determined and pissed. She began to pace the room. "Does Giles think I'm the one who has to deal with this? Did you tell him I'm busy enough here, in control of a few thousand slayerettes?"

"Don't kill the messenger, Pet," he soothed. "Don't get too worked up either." His eyes were mischievous. "I smoothed it out so it's like this, Buffy. The two of us check out this hellmouth together, on a sort of…vacation."

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. "I don't have time to vacation, Spike."

"Oh, but you do." He stood up and walked so he was standing inches from her. His hands were on her waist. "Because, you see, the vacation spot…_is_ the hellmouth."

Buffy just stared at him, wondering what kind of sense he was making.

"Buffy, we're going to Dante's Cove."


End file.
